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TWO   NOBLE   LIVES 


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SAMUEL   GRTDI.EY    HOWE. 


Two  Noble  Lives 


SAMUEL  GRIDLEY  HOWE 
JULIA  WARD  HOWE 


IIY    THEIR    DAUGHl'KR 

LAURA  E.  RICHARDS 


BOSTON 
DANA   ESTES   AND   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copy  rig /it,  igii 
By  Dana  Estes  &  Company 


AU  riirhts  7-eserveJ 


E  le  c  ir  ot  y  pe  d  and  Printed  l>y 
THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  H .  Simonds  6^  Co.,  Boston,  U .  S.  A 


/  C^XH  L1F>RA!^Y 

V^  STAT*^  TEACHERS  C^L'EGE 

^  •  s1.t\  BA^^BARA  CALIFORNIA 

/;^..7.B?.x.. 


TO 

THIS    STORY    OF    THE    LIVES    OF    THEIR 

GREAT-GRANDPARENTS 

IS    AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED 


NOTE 

This  little  book,  adapted  in  part  from  an  earlier 
volume,  is  designed  for  use  in  schools.  It  is  hoped 
that  the  story  of  these  two  Hves,  thus  briefly  and 
simply  told,  may  find  its  way  into  the  hands  of 
many  children. 


THE  HERO 

{Dr.  S.  G.  Howe) 

"  O  for  a  knight  like  Bayard, 
Without  reproach  or  fear; 
My  light  glove  on  his  casque  of  steel, 
My  love-knot  on  his  spear! 

O  for  the  white  plume  floating 
Sad  Zutphen's  field  above,  — 

The  lion  heart  in  battle, 
The  woman^s  heart  in  love! 

O  that  man  once  more  were  manly, 
Woman's  pride,  and  not  her  scorn; 

That  once  more  the  pale  young  mother 
Dared  to  boast  '  a  man  is  born!  ' 

But,  now  life's  slumberous  current 
No  sun-bowed  cascade  wakes; 

No  tall,  heroic  manhood 
The  level  dulness  breaks. 
vii 


viii  THE  HERO 

''  0  for  a  knight  like  Bayard, 
Without  reproach  or  fear! 
My  light  glove  on  his  casque  of  steel, 
My  love- knot  on  his  spear/  " 

Then  I  said,  my  own  heart  throbbing 
To  the  time  her  proud  pulse  beat, 

"  Life  hath  its  regal  natures  yet, — 
True,  tender,  brave,  and  sweet! 

"  Smile  not,  fair  unbeliever! 
One  man  at  least  I  know 
Who  might  wear  the  crest  of  Bayard 
Or  Sidney^ s  plume  of  snow. 

"  Once,  when  over  purple  mountains 
Died  away  the  Grecian  sun. 
And  the  far  Cyllenian  ranges 
Paled  and  darkened,  one  by  one,  — 

"  Fell  the  Turk,  a  bolt  of  thunder, 
Cleaving  all  the  quiet  sky, 
And  against  his  sharp  steel  lightnings 
Stood  the  Suliote  but  to  die. 

"  Woe  for  the  weak  and  halting! 
The  crescent  blazed  behind 
A  curving  line  of  sabres, 
Like  fire  before  the  wind! 


THE  HERO  ix 


"  Last  to  fly  and  first  to  rally, 
Rode  he  of  whom  I  speak, 
When,  groaning  in  his  bridle-path, 
Sank  down  a  wounded  Greek. 

"  With  the  rich  Albanian  costume 
Wet  with  many  a  ghastly  stain. 
Gazing  on  earth  and  sky  as  one 
Who  might  not  gaze  again! 

"  He  looked  forward  to  the  mountains. 
Back  on  foes  that  never  spare. 
Then  flung  him  from  his  saddle, 
And  placed  the  stranger  there. 

"  Allah!  hu!  "     Through  flashing  sabres. 
Through  a  stormy  hail  of  lead, 
The  good  Thessalian  charger 
Up  the  slopes  of  olives  sped. 

"  Hot  spurred  the  turbaned  riders; 
He  almost  felt  their  breath, 
Where  a  mountain  stream  rolled  darkly  down 
Between  the  hills  and  death. 

"  One  brave  and  manful  struggle,  — 
He  gained  the  solid  land, 
And  the  cover  of  the  mountains. 
And  the  carbines  of  his  band! 


THE  HERO 

It  was  very  great  and  noble" 

Said  the  moist-eyed  listener  then, 
But  one  brave  deed  makes  no  hero; 
Tell  me  what  he  since  hath  been!  '* 

Still  a  brave  and  generous  manhood, 
Still  an  honor  without  stain, 

In  the  prison  of  the  Kaiser, 
By  the  barricades  of  Seine. 

But  dream  not  helm  and  harness 

The  sign  of  valor  true; 
Peace  hath  higher  tests  of  manhood 

Than  battle  ever  knew. 

Wouldst  know  him  now?    Behold  him, 

The  Cadmus  of  the  blind, 
Giving  the  dumb  lip  language, 

The  idiot  clay  a  mind. 

Walking  his  round  of  auty 

Serenely  day  by  day, 
With  the  strong  man's  hand  of  labor 

And  childhood's  heart  of  play. 

True  as  the  knights  of  story. 

Sir  Lancelot  and  his  peers, 
Brave  in  his  calm  endurance 

As  they  in  tilt  of  spears. 


THE  HERO  XI 


"As  waves  in  stillest  waters, 
As  stars  in  noonday  skies, 
All  that  wakes  to  noble  action 
In  his  noon  of  calmness  lies. 

"  Wherever  outraged  Nature 
Asks  word  or  action  brave, 
Wherever  struggles  labor. 
Wherever  groans  a  slave,  — 

"  Wherever  rise  the  peoples, 
Wherever  sinks  a  throne, 
The  throbbing  heart  of  Freedom  finds 
An  answer  in  his  own. 

"  Knight  of  a  better  era, 

Without  reproach  or  feart 
Said  I  not  well  that  Bayards 
And  Sidneys  still  are  here?  " 


John  G.  Whitteer. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBK 

The  Hero       .... 
I.    The  Hero       .... 
II.    In  the  Prison  of  the  Kaiser 

III.  The  Cadmus  of  the  Blind 

IV.  Julia  Ward    .... 
V.    The  Two  Happy  Homes     . 

Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic 
VI.    In  War  Time 
VII.    Afternoon  and  Evening   . 


PAGE 

vii 
II 

22 
30 

38 

49 

59 
61 

69 


TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  HERO 

My  father,  Samuel  Gridley  Howe,  was  born 
in  Boston,  Massachusetts,  November  lo,  1801. 
He  came  of  good  Colonial  stock  on  both  sides, 
his  grandfather,  Edward  Compston  Howe, 
having  been  one  of  the  ''  Indians "  of  the 
Boston  Tea  Party,  while  his  mother's  uncle, 
Richard  Gridley,  was  a  gallant  soldier  and 
engineer,  who  served  at  Louisburg  in  1745, 
fortified  Bunker  Hill  the  night  before  the 
battle,  and,  under  Washington's  orders,  aided 
in  preparing  the  siege-works  which  finally  drove 
the  British  from  Boston. 

Sam  Howe,  as  my  father  was  called,  was  a 

handsome  boy,  with  dark  hair,  rosy  cheeks 

and  bright  blue  eyes,  fuU  of  fun  and  mischief. 

II 


12  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

His  father  was  a  maker  of  ropes  and  cordage, 
and  had  a  large  "  rope- walk "  on  Charles 
Street.  Sam  was  very  fond  of  playing  about  the 
rope-walk,  and  on  the  shore  close  by;  for  in 
those  days  the  Back  Bay  was  really  a  bay,  and 
the  water  flowed  up  to  the  Charles  Street 
houses,  and  stood  deep  over  the  spot  where  now 
the  Public  Garden  blossoms.  In  winter  the 
broad  sheet  was  a  clear  surface  of  ice,  where 
there  was  fine  skating  and  sliding.  In  spring, 
when  the  ice  was  breaking  up,  there  was  an- 
other sport,  exciting,  but  not  at  all  safe,  in 
which  little  Sam  Howe  delighted;  and  he  spent 
much  of  his  play  time  in  "  running  tiddledies," 
which  means  jumping  from  one  floating  ice- 
cake  to  another.  Once,  while  doing  this,  he  fell 
in,  and  was  fished  out  and  brought  to  his 
father's  office,  which  was  near  by,  dripping  with 
ice-cold  water. 

"  Go  home,"  said  Grandfather  Howe,  "  and 
tell  your  mother  to  whip  you!  " 

"  I  went  home,"  my  father  used  to  say,  "  but 
my  mother  did  not  whip  me." 

Sam  went  through  the  Boston  Latin  School; 
then  came  the  question,  "  what  next?  "    There 


THE  HERO  13 

were  three  boys,  Joseph,  Samuel,  and  Edward. 
Their  father  was  not  rich,  and  could  not  send 
them  all  to  college.  He  called  them  round  him 
one  day,  and  opened  the  big  family  Bible. 
''  Do  you  each  read  me  a  chapter!  "  he  said. 
"  The  one  who  reads  best  shall  go  to  college." 

Sam  read  very  much  the  best;  so  he  was  sent 
to  Brown  University,  in  Providence,  Rhode 
Island.  Here  he  stayed  for  four  years,  studying 
a  good  deal,  but  also,  I  must  confess,  playing  a 
good  deal,  and  sometimes  playing  naughty 
pranks;  but  the  spirit  of  adventure  which  led 
him  into  mischief,  was  soon  to  lead  him  to  far 
different  things. 

On  leaving  college,  Sam  Howe  went  through 
the  Harvard  Medical  School,  and  received  his 
diploma  as  Doctor  of  Medicine. 

At  that  time  the  Greek  War  of  Independence 
was  going  on.  Greece  had  for  centuries  been 
under  the  cruel  rule  of  Turkey;  but  now  the 
Greeks  had  resolved  to  be  free,  and  had  taken 
up  arms  against  their  oppressors.  They  were 
a  brave  and  gallant  people,  and  many  young 
men  of  other  countries  went  to  help  them  in 
their  struggle  for  freedom;    among  these  was 


14  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

my  father  (as  I  shall  call  him  from  now  on). 
He  had  always  loved  Greek  history;  he  greatly 
admired  the  poetry  of  Lord  Byron,  who  had 
recently  given  his  services  to  Greece;  and  he 
determined  to  do  Ukewise,  and  join  the  band  of 
Philhellenes,  or  lovers  of  Greece. 

In  1824,  being  then  twenty- three  years  of 
age,  he  sailed  for  Greece,  and  offered  his  services 
as  surgeon  to  the  Greek  Government.  They 
were  accepted,  and  for  six  years  he  remained  in 
Greece,  first  with  the  army,  and  later  as  surgeon- 
in-chief  to  the  Greek  fleet.  He  fought  in  many 
a  battle,  side  by  side  with  the  hardy  Greek 
mountaineers;  dressed  like  them,  in  the  "  snowy 
camise  and  the  shaggy  capote,"  he  shared 
their  toils  and  their  hardships,  and  slept  rolled 
in  his  cloak,  with  a  stone  for  his  pillow,  under  the 
open  stars.  Often  for  months  at  a  time  he 
tasted  no  flesh  save  that  of  mountain  snails  or 
roasted  wasps;  for  weeks  he  went  without 
bread,  and  sometimes  for  days  together  without 
food  of  any  kind. 

I  remember  asking  him  once,  long  years 
after,  whether  roasted  wasps  were  not  "  hor- 
rid! "     "  Not  at  aU!  "  he  replied.     "  Roasted 


THE  HERO  15 

to  a  crisp,  and  strung  on  a  straw  like  dried 
cherries,  they  were  not  at  all  bad.  I  was  often 
thankful  enough  to  get  them!  " 

The  Greek  chieftains  loved  him,  and  called 
him  "  the  beautiful  youth."  You  have  read  in 
Whittier's  ballad  how  he  once  saved  the  Hfe  of 
a  wounded  Greek,  putting  him  on  his  own  horse, 
with  the  Turkish  soldiers  close  at  hand,  and 
barely  escaping  on  foot  with  his  own  Hfe.  This 
man  became  his  faithful  servant,  and  followed 
him  hke  a  dog,  sleeping  at  his  feet  at  night,  and 
unwilHng  to  lose  sight  of  him  even  for  an 
hour. 

An  officer  who  served  with  him  said  after- 
ward that  the  only  fault  found  with  him  was 
that  he  always  would  be  in  the  fight,  and  was 
only  a  surgeon  when  the  battle  was  over. 

My  father  kept  a  journal  during  the  Greek 
Revolution,  as  this  war  was  called.  I  have  it 
now,  a  little  sheepskin  volume,  small  enough 
to  carry  in  the  pocket,  the  pages  covered  with 
very  fine,  crabbed  writing  in  faded  ink  which  is 
now  hard  to  read.  In  this  book,  by  the  light 
of  the  camp-fire,  or  the  smoky  lamp  in  a  village 
hut,  he  would  jot  down  the  events  of  the  day, 


1 6  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

and  the  thoughts  which  filled  his  eager  young 
mind.    In  one  place  he  tells  how  — 

*'  Squatted  down  upon  a  sort  of  straw  pillow 
placed  on  the  ground,  I  enjoy  all  the  luxury  of  a 
Grecian  hut;  which  in  point  of  elegance,  ease 
and  comfort,  although  not  equal  to  the  meanest 
of  our  negro  huts,  is  nevertheless  somewhat 
superior  to  the  naked  rock.  We  have  two 
apartments,  but  no  partitions  between  them,  the 
different  rooms  being  made  by  the  inequality 
of  the  ground,  —  we  living  up  the  hill,  while 
the  servants  and  horses  live  down  in  the  lower 
part;  and  the  smoke  of  our  fires,  rising  to  the 
roof  and  seeking  in  vain  for  some  hole  to 
escape,  comes  back  again  to  me." 

Again,  he  tells  of  his  visit  to  an  old  Greek 
priest,  who  lived  with  his  family  in  a  tiny 
cottage,  the  best  house  in  the  village.  He  found 
the  good  old  man  just  sitting  down  to  supper 
with  his  wife  and  children  (the  priests  of  the 
Greek  church  are  allowed  to  marry),  and  was 
invited  most  cordially  to  join  them.  The  supper 
consisted  of  a  huge  beet,  boiled,  and  served  with 
butter  and  black  bread.  This  was  enough  for 
the  whole  family  and  the  guest  too;    and  my 


THE  HERO  17 

father,  seeing  the  cheerfulness  and  contentment 
of  one  and  all,  decided  that  the  old  "  Papa  " 
had  a  much  better  supper  than  many  rich  people 
he  remembered  at  home,  who  feasted  three 
times  a  day  on  all  the  fine  things  that  money 
could  buy,  and  found  neither  joy  nor  comfort 
in  their  food. 

Long,  long  years  after  this  time,  when  I  was 
a  young  girl,  I  went  to  Greece  wath  my  father, 
and  he  showed  me  a  curious  hollow  in  an  ancient 
wall,  built  thousands  of  years  ago,  and  told  me 
that  he  and  his  comrades  once  lay  hidden  there 
for  hours,  while  the  Turks,  scimitar  in  hand, 
scoured  the  fields  in  search  of  them. 

So  the  young  surgeon  went  about,  through 
the  villages  and  among  the  mountains,  binding 
up  wounds  and  tending  the  sick  and  dying;  but 
after  a  time  he  came  to  see  that  there  was  worse 
suffering  in  Greece  than  that  of  the  soldiers  and 
sailors.  They,  after  all,  had  the  joy  of  fighting 
for  their  country;  but  the  women  and  children, 
left  thus  alone,  were  starving.  His  great  heart 
could  not  bear  the  sight  of  their  suffering.  He 
came  back  to  this  country,  told  of  the  sad  things 
he  had  seen,  and  begged  for  money  and  clothes: 


1 8  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

and  food  for  the  perishing  wives  and  mothers 
and  children  of  the  Greek  soldiers.  He  told 
the  story  well,  for  he  put  his  heart  into  it,  and 
people  listen  to  a  story  so  told.  Many  hearts 
beat  in  answer  to  his,  and  in  a  short  time  he 
sailed  again  for  Greece,  with  a  good  ship  full 
of  rice  and  flour,  and  cloth  to  make  into  gar- 
ments, and  money  to  buy  whatever  else  might 
be  needed. 

When  he  landed  in  Greece,  the  women  came 
flocking  about  him  in  hundreds,  crying  for 
bread,  and  praying  God  to  bless  him.  He  felt 
blessed  enough,  you  may  be  sure,  when  he  saw 
the  chfldren  eating  bread,  and  saw  the  naked 
backs  covered,  and  the  sad,  hungry  faces  smiling 
again.  So  he  went  about  doing  good,  and  help- 
ing wherever  he  saw  need.  Many  a  poor  woman 
may  have  thought  that  the  beautiful  youth  was 
an  angel  sent  by  God  to  relieve  her;  and  she 
may  not  have  been  far  wrong. 

But  my  father  was  not  satisfied  with  feeding 
and  clothing  the  people.  There  were  many  sick 
persons  among  them,  and  no  place  where  they 
could  be  cared  for.  He  estabhshed  a  hospi- 
tal, and  put  it  under  the  charge  of   a   good 


THE  HERO  19 

physician,  Dr.  Russ,  while  he  came  to  this 
country  again,  to  raise  more  money  to  support 
the  hospital,  and  to  carry  on  another  work  on 
which  he  had  set  his  heart.  He  always  said 
"  Help  people  to  help  themselves!  "  and  this  is 
what  he  wished  to  do  now.  He  saw  that  if  the 
Greek  people  continued  to  be  fed  by  charity, 
doing  no  work,  it  would  injure  them;  so  on 
his  return  he  made  work  for  them.  The  island 
of  iEgina,  where  many  of  the  Greek  women 
and  children,  as  well  as  the  men  who  were 
not  fighting,  were  gathered  together,  had  no 
wharf  or  pier,  and  there  was  great  need  of 
one. 

My  father  called  the  refugees  together,  and 
told  them  that  he  was  going  to  build  a  pier; 
that  they  should  do  the  work,  and  he  would  pay 
them  for  it.  Great  was  the  joy  in  the  hearts  of 
the  poor  people.  He  gave  them  all  clothing, 
and  they  set  to  work  at  once  under  his  orders. 
There  were  plenty  of  great  stones  near  by, 
which  had  been  the  foundation-stones  of  an  old 
temple,  long  since  destroyed.  The  men  dug  out 
the  huge  blocks,  and  dragged  them  on  a  flat 
car  down  to  the  shore;  the  women  and  children 


20  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

brought  baskets  of  dirt  and  small  stones,  to  fill 
in  with.    One  day  he  writes  in  his  journal: 

"  Getting  on  finely.  The  poor  who  labor  are 
now  five  hundred,  and  it  is  cheering  to  my  heart 
to  go  among  them  and  see  the  change  that  has 
taken  place.  Instead  of,  as  formerly,  humbly 
and  trembUngly  addressing  me  and  begging  for 
assistance,  they  look  up  brightly  and  con- 
fidently and  cry  out,  '  Welcome  among  us, 
sir ! '  and  they  often  add  as  I  go  away,  '  God 
bless  your  father  and  mother;  God  save  the 
souls  of  your  relations;  long  hfe  to  the  Ameri- 
cans! '  or  some  such  endearing  expression,  which 
gives  me  a  thrill  of  satisfaction,  and  repays  me 
for  all  the  toils  and  vexations  attendant  upon 
the  task  of  an  almoner." 

This  wharf,  or  mole,  is  still  standing,  and  still 
known  as  "  the  American  Mole." 

Besides  all  this,  my  father  founded  a  village 
on  the  Isthmus  of  Corinth,  getting  land  from 
the  Greek  Government,  and  supplying  the 
people  with  seed  to  sow  their  crops,  and  helping 
them  to  build  their  houses.  Here  he  estabhshed 
fifty  families,  who  came  to  him  ragged  and 
starving,    and   whom   he   left   the   next   year 


'T 


..•».'.  J./. t:.\, 


THE  HERO  21 

thriving  and  happy.  They  had  never  seen  a 
wheeled  vehicle  of  any  kind.  My  father  made 
them  a  wheelbarrow  himself;  and  later,  finding 
a  sick  straggler  from  the  army  who  had  formerly 
been  a  wheelwright,  he  cured  him,  and  then 
employed  him  to  build  a  cart,  which  was  such 
a  marvel  that  the  people  came  flocking  from 
miles  around  to  see  it.  In  fact,  as  he  says 
himself,  "  I  labored  here  day  and  night,  in 
season  and  out,  and  was  governor,  legislator, 
clerk,  constable,  and  everything  but  patriarch !  " 
Fifteen  years  later  my  father  visited  Greece 
again,  and  went  to  see  how  his  village  was 
prospering.  As  he  rode  through  the  street,  one 
villager  said  to  another,  "  This  man  looks  Hke 
Howe!  "  Presently  some  one  cried  out,  "  It  is 
Howe!  "  and  then  all  the  people  came  running 
out  of  their  houses,  and  pulled  him  off  his  horse, 
and  embraced  him,  and  made  a  feast  in  his 
honor,  and  the  whole  \allage  wept  and  laughed 
and  rejoiced  because  their  hero  was  come  again. 


CHAPTER   II 

IN   THE   PRISON   OF   THE   KAISER 

When  the  war  was  over,  and  Greece  a  free 
country,  my  father  came  home,  and  began  to 
look  about  him  to  see  what  he  could  do  to  help 
others  to  help  themselves.  He  had  long  since 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  did  not  care  about 
making  money  or  getting  power  for  himself,  but 
to  help  those  who  needed  help.  So,  all  through 
his  life,  he  was  a  philanthropist,  which  means  a 
lover  of  man. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait  for  his  new  work. 
Up  to  that  time,  there  had  been  no  teaching  for 
the  blind  in  this  country.  If  a  child  was  blind, 
it  must  sit  with  folded  hands  at  home,  while 
the  other  children  went  to  school  and  to  play. 
At  the  time  of  my  father's  return,  a  school  for 
blind  children  was  about  to  be  started  in  Boston, 
and  my  father  was  asked  if  he  would  take  charge 
of  it.  This  was  just  what  he  wanted,  and  he 
said  "  Yes!  "  with  right  good  will.    But  first, 

22 


IN  THE  PRISON  OF  THE  KAISER       23 

he  felt,  he  must  prepare  himself  for  this  new 
task,  so  that  he  might  do  it  thoroughly  and  well; 
so  he  went  to  Europe,  where  the  teaching  of  the 
bhnd  had  already  begun,  to  learn  how  it  was 
best  done.  On  this  trip  one  of  the  strangest 
adventures  of  his  Ufe  befell  him. 

This  was  in  the  year  1832.  The  people  of 
Poland,  that  unhappy  country  which  had  been 
conquered  some  years  before,  and  divided 
among  its  conquerors,  Russia,  Prussia  and 
Austria,  had  made  an  effort  to  regain  their 
independence.  They  were  defeated,  after  a 
gallant  struggle  against  hopeless  odds,  and  a 
time  of  great  suffering  followed,  for  the  PoHsh 
soldiers  as  well  as  the  women  and  children. 
The  people  of  France  and  America  felt  deep 
sympathy  \vith  the  Poles,  and  wished  to  help 
them  in  their  great  need;  and  a  PoHsh  Com- 
mittee was  formed  in  Paris,  with  General  La- 
fayette at  its  head,  and  our  own  novehst,  James 
Fenimore  Cooper,  as  one  of  its  members. 

My  father  was  in  Paris  at  this  time.  He  had 
been  studying  the  French  methods  of  teaching 
the  bhnd,  and  was  now  on  the  point  of  going  to 
Germany  to  see  what  he  could  learn  there. 


24  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

General  Lafayette  saw  that  here  was  the  man 
to  help  the  Committee  carry  out  its  plans,  and 
he  asked  my  father  if  he  would  take  charge  of 
money,  clothing,  and  provisions  for  a  body  of 
Polish  troops  who  had  taken  refuge  in  Prussia, 
and  were  known  to  be  suffering  great  hardships. 
My  father  accepted  the  trust  joyfully,  and 
carried  it  out  faithfully.  As  in  Greece,  so  on 
the  banks  of  the  Vistula,  the  naked  were  clothed 
and  the  hungry  fed;  and  then  he  went  on  his 
way  to  Berlin,  the  capital  of  Prussia.  He 
realized  as  he  travelled  that  he  was  being 
"  shadowed,"  but  thought  nothing  of  it.  He 
had  done  no  harm,  and  feared  no  evil. 

Arrived  in  Berlin,  he  went  quietly  to  his 
hotel.  At  midnight  he  was  roused  by  a  knock 
at  the  door,  and  opening  it,  he  saw  three  men  in 
citizen's  clothes,  who  bade  him  come  with  them. 
On  his  asking  who  they  were,  they  opened  their 
coats  and  showed  him  the  badge  of  the  police. 
My  father  told  them  he  was  very  tired,  and  that 
if  they  would  let  him  have  a  few  hours'  sleep  he 
would  go  with  them  quietly  in  the  morning. 
They  finally  consented,  and  left  him  alone. 
Now,  he  had  in  his  breast  pocket  some  im- 


IN  THE  PRISON  OF  THE  KAISER       25 

portant  papers,  letters  to  and  from  Lafayette 
and  others  of  the  Committee,  the  discovery  of 
which  might  prove  dangerous  to  himself  and 
to  them.  What  should  he  do  with  them? 
Fortunately  the  police  had  not  searched  him 
this  time,  but  they  would  be  sure  to  do  so  in  the 
morning.  Glancing  round  the  bare  Httle  room, 
he  spied  a  plaster  bust  of  the  King  of  Prussia, 
standing  on  top  of  the  stove.  He  thrust  the 
dangerous  papers  up  into  the  hollow  of  the  head 
—  the  first  time  that  head  had  ever  received 
any  ideas  of  freedom !  Then,  taking  some  other 
papers  of  no  importance,  he  carefully  tore  them 
into  tiny  bits,  threw  them  into  a  basin  of  water, 
and  went  peacefully  to  bed. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  police  returned, 
pounced  on  the  floating  scraps  of  paper  (which 
they  afterwards  showed  him  carefully  pasted 
together!)  and  marched  him  off  to  prison. 

What  kind  of  prison  it  was  you  shall  see  by 
reading  part  of  one  of  his  letters. 

"Berlin  Prison,  March  20,  1832. 
"I  have  oft  dated  my  letters  to  you  from 
queer,   out-of-the-way  places,   from  city   and 


26  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

from  camp,  from  mountain,  from  cottage,  and  I 
believe  from  cavern;  but  never  did  it  enter  my 
imagination  that  I  should  write  to  you  from 
the  cell  of  a  prison;  and  that,  too,  by  stealth  on 
a  bit  of  brown  paper  (in  which  my  candle  had 
been  wrapped),  with  a  stub  of  a  pencil  coaxed 
from  a  turnkey,  and  by  the  glimmer  of  hght 
that  comes  from  a  close-grated  window.  Yet 
so  it  is;  here  I  am,  as  sure  and  fast  as  bolts  and 
bars  can  make  me.  Here  I  have  been  for  the 
last  twenty  days,  and  here  I  may  be  for  the  next 
twenty  months,  for  aught  I  know.  .  .  . 

T  am  snug  enough,  between  four  granite 
walls,  in  a  wee  bit  cell,  fast  barred  and  bolted." 

The  wdndow,  or  air-hole,  which  gave  him  a 
little  hght,  was  eight  feet  from  the  ground,  so 
that  he  could  not  see  out;  he  was  not  allowed 
to  see  or  speak  to  any  one,  nor  to  look  at  a 
newspaper,  much  less  a  book. 

Here  he  stayed  for  five  long,  weary  wTcks; 
and  here  he  might  have  died,  had  it  not  been 
for  a  fortunate  happening.  The  day  he  arrived 
in  Berlin,  on  his  way  to  the  hotel,  he  met  an 
American  gentleman  whom  he  knew.  They 
stopped    and    exchanged    greetings,    and    my 


IN  THE  PRISON  OF  THE  KAISER       27 

father  told  the  gentleman  the  name  of  the  hotel 
to  which  he  was  going.  The  next  day  this  gentle- 
man, whose  name  was  Albert  Brisbane,  went  to 
the  hotel  to  call  on  my  father.  He  asked  for  Dr. 
Howe,  and  was  told  to  his  astonishment  that  no 
such  person  was  there,  or  had  ever  been  there. 

Mr.  Brisbane  instantly  suspected  treachery, 
and  wrote  to  Mr.  Rives,  the  American  Minister 
at  Paris.  Mr.  Rives  in  turn  wrote  to  the  Prus- 
sian Government,  demanding  "  the  person  of 
an  American  citizen,  unjustly  detained." 

The  Prussian  Government  replied  that  it 
knew  nothing  of  any  such  person.  Mr.  Rives 
persisted,  the  more  strongly  that  he  soon  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  my  father.  I  have  this 
letter  now,  written  in  faint  pencil  on  a  fragment 
of  coarse  gray  wrapping-paper. 

"It  is  now  twenty  days,"  he  says,  "  since  I 
was  seized  by  order  of  the  Minister  of  Police 
of  Prussia,  and  thrust  into  prison,  where  I  have 
since  been  kept  in  the  strictest  seclusion.  I 
can  see  no  one,  I  can  hear  from  no  one ;  even  a 
newspaper  is  forbidden  to  enter  my  cell,  and . 
it  is  only  to-day  that  I  have  received  permission 
to  address  you  and  my  relatives. 


28  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

"  I  have  in  vain  sought  to  know  my  offence, 
I  have  in  vain  prayed  to  be  brought  to  judg- 
ment; it  is  now  ten  days  since  they  have  ceased 
to  examine  and  cross-question  me,  and  it  is  a 
fortnight  that  all  my  papers  have  been  in  the 
hands  of  the  Minister  of  Pohce." 

Finally  Mr.  Rives  grew  so  urgent  in  his  de- 
mands, that  the  Prussian  Government  decided 
it  would  be  unwise  to  rouse  the  American  Eagle 
to  anger.  My  father  was  taken  out  of  prison, 
and  put  into  a  post-wagon  in  charge  of  two 
police-officers,  who  were  charged  to  hurry  him 
day  and  night,  to  avoid  the  large  cities,  to  pre- 
vent his  speaking  to  any  one,  to  refuse  him  rest 
on  any  pretext,  and  to  imprison  him  in  the 
nearest  fortress  if  he  attempted  to  escape.  In 
this  way,  weak  and  ill  from  his  long  imprison- 
ment, harshly  treated,  sometimes  refused  even 
a  glass  of  water,  my  father  was  hurried  for 
seven  days  over  rough  country  roads,  and 
finally  left  on  the  frontier  of  France,  alone  and 
penniless,  to  make  his  way  home  as  best  he 
might. 

All  through  his  imprisonment,  he  was  obliged 
to  pay  the  jailer  for  his  board.     Many  years 


IN  THE  PRISON  OF  THE  KAISER       29 

after,  when  his  name  was  known  throughout  the 
civihzed  world  for  his  work  among  the  bhnd, 
the  King  of  Prussia  sent  him  a  gold  medal  as 
a  token  of  admiration.  My  father  had  the 
curiosity  to  weigh  it,  and  found  that  its  value 
in  money  was  equal  to  the  sum  he  had  paid  the 
Prussian  Government  for  his  prison  board  and 
lodging  in  the  year  1832. 

The  precious  papers,  mostly  letters  from 
Lafayette,  remained  in  the  hollow  plaster  head 
of  old  King , Frederick  WilKam  for  six  months: 
then  a  friend  of  my  father's,  visiting  Berlin, 
went  at  his  request  to  the  hotel,  managed  to 
secure  the  room,  and  quietly  took  them  out  and 
brought  them  away. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   CADMUS    OF   THE   BLIND 

Soon  after  this,  having  learned  all  that 
was  to  be  learned  in  those  days  about 
teaching  the  bhnd,  my  father  came  home, 
and  straightway  took  up  his  new  work,  which 
was  to  end  only  with  his  life.  First  of  all, 
he  put  a  bandage  over  his  own  eyes,  and  wore 
it  for  some  time,  so  that  he  might  realize  a 
little  of  what  it  meant  to  be  blind.  Then, 
he  found  some  little  blind  children,  took  them 
home  to  his  father's  house,  and  taught  them  to 
read  and  write;  the  first  by  means  of  raised 
letters  which  they  could  feel  with  their  fingers, 
the  second  by  means  of  raised  lines,  which 
enabled  them  to  guide  the  pencil  and  keep  the 
lines  straight.  He  made  maps  for  them,  with 
raised  dots  of  rough  plaster  for  mountains,  and 
pins'  heads  for  cities:  their  Httle  fingers  felt 
of  all  these  things,  and  became  so  skilful  that 

30 


THE  CADMUS  OF  THE  BLIND  31 

in  a  short  time  they  could  read  as  rapidly  as 
many  children  with  the  full  use  of  their  eyes. 

This  is  why  Whittier  calls  my  father  "  the 
Cadmus  of  the  Bhnd:  "  Cadmus  having  made 
the  first  letters  for  the  Greeks,  in  old,  old  days. 

When  people  heard  that  bUnd  children  could 
be  taught  to  read,  more  and  more  parents 
came,  bringing  their  children  to  the  new  school. 
Soon  my  grandfather's  house  could  not  hold 
them.  There  was  no  room,  and  no  money  to 
carry  on  the  fast-growing  school. 

My  father's  favorite  saying  was  "  Obstacles 
are  things  to  be  overcome!  "  So  he  went  to 
work  to  overcome  these.  He  took  his  bhnd 
pupils  before  the  Legislature,  showed  what  he 
had  done,  and  asked  for  money  to  carry  on  the 
school.  The  Legislature  instantly  voted  to  give 
six  thousand  dollars  a  year  to  the  school;  and 
soon  after,  a  Boston  gentleman.  Colonel  Perkins, 
gave  his  fine  house  and  garden  for  the  use  of  the 
Httle  bhnd  children.  The  school  was  moved 
there,  and  has  been  known  ever  since  as  the 
Perkins  Institution  and  Massachusetts  School 
for  the  Bhnd. 

But  this  did  not  satisfy  my  father.     The 


32  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

blind  children  of  his  own  State  were  now  pro- 
vided for;  but  he  knew  that  in  the  other  States 
of  the  Union  (except  New  York,  where  a  school 
was  opened  in  the  same  year,  and  Pennsylvania, 
which  followed  suit  the  year  after),  the  bUnd 
children  were  still  sitting  with  folded  hands, 
knowing  nothing  of  the  pleasant  world  of  books, 
unable  to  write  or  sew  or  knit  or  play  the  piano, 
or  do  any  of  the  things  that  his  pupils  were  so 
happily  doing  in  their  new  hfe.  So  he  went 
from  State  to  State,  taking  a  httle  band  of 
children  with  him,  going  before  the  Legislatures, 
showing  what  the  children  had  learned  to  do, 
begging  them  to  do  the  same  thing  for  the  bhnd 
children  of  their  own  State.  And  in  his  foot- 
steps, all  over  this  great  country,  sprang  up  the 
schools  for  the  blind,  bringing  light  into  dark- 
ness, and  joy  where  had  been  sorrow. 

In  the  year  1837  my  father  overcame  an 
obstacle  that  people  had  always  thought  could 
never  be  overcome.  He  heard  of  a  httle  girl, 
named  Laura  Bridgman,  who  was  deaf,  dumb 
and  blind.  She  had  lost  her  sight  and  hearing 
when  she  was  a  baby ;  she  was  now  seven  years 
old,  and  could  neither  see,  hear,  smell,  nor  — 


THE  CADMUS  OF  THE  BLIND  33 

save  in  a  very  slight  degree  —  taste.  My  father 
went  to  see  her,  and  persuaded  her  parents  to 
let  her  come  to  the  Perkins  Institution.  Here 
he  set  himself  patiently  to  bring  the  child's  mind 
out  of  darkness  into  light. 

You  shall  hear  how  he  did  it. 

He  took  things  in  common  use,  such  as  knives, 
forks,  spoons,  keys,  and  so  forth,  and  pasted 
on  them  labels  with  their  names  in  raised  letters. 
These  he  gave  to  Laura,  who  felt  of  them  care- 
fully. She  soon  found  that  the  crooked  lines 
*'  spoon  "  on  one  object  were  different  from  the 
crooked  lines  "  ^  e  3;  "  on  another.  Next  he 
gave  her  some  of  the  labels  without  the  objects; 
and  she  soon  found  (for  she  was  a  very  bright, 
observant  child),  that  they  bore  the  same 
crooked  lines  that  were  on  the  spoons,  keys, 
etc.  After  a  little  time  she  would  lay  the 
^'  s  p  0  0  n^'  label  on  the  spoon,  the  "  k  ey^^ 
label  on  the  key,  and  so  on,  of  her  own  accord; 
then  my  father  would  pat  her  on  the  head,  and 
she  knew  he  was  pleased;  but  she  did  not  yet 
know  what  he  was  trying  to  do. 

When  she  had  learned  to  put  the  right  labels 
on  many  familiar  things,  one  day  my  father  gave 


34  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

her,  instead  of  a  label,  the  different  letters  of  the 
word,  on  separate  bits  of  paper.  First  he  put 
them  in  the  right  order,  to  spell  "  spoon,'' 
"  key,"  "  book,"  etc.;  then  he  mixed  them  up 
in  a  heap,  and  made  a  sign  to  her  to  arrange 
them  herself  in  the  right  order.  This  she  did, 
patiently  and  correctly;  but  still  she  was  merely 
imitating  his  actions,  and  learning  as  a  clever 
dog  learns  tricks.  She  did  not  know  what  it 
meant,  nor  why  she  was  doing  it. 

But  one  happy  day,  as  my  father  watched 
the  Httle  girl  at  her  patient  task,  he  saw  her 
face  change.  Light  seemed  to  flash  over  it. 
All  in  a  moment  it  had  come  to  her;  she  knew 
what  it  all  meant;  she  knew  that  by  these 
raised  marks  on  paper  she  could  make  a  sign 
for  every  thought,  every  wish;  she  knew  that 
she  was  no  longer  alone  in  a  dark  and  silent 
world,  but  could  make  herself  understood,  and 
could  understand  in  turn  the  thoughts  of  others. 

I  think  this  was  the  happiest  day  of  my 
father's  life;  and  since  that  day,  no  blind 
deaf-mute  child  has  ever  needed  to  be  alone 
in  the  world. 

Laura  Bridgman  lived  many  years,  and  be- 


THE  CADMUS  OF  TEE  BLIND  35 

came  a  happy,  earnest,  industrious  woman.  She 
learned  to  talk  with  her  fingers,  and  could  talk 
faster  than  most  people  with  their  tongues.  I 
am  her  namesake,  and  I  knew  her  well.  She 
was  a  great  reader,  wrote  many  letters,  sewed 
beautifully,  made  lace  and  crochet  work;  I 
doubt  if  she  was  ever  idle.  She  loved  my  father 
always  better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world, 
and  she  was  very  dear  to  him  also. 

But  there  were  other  obstacles  for  him  to  over- 
come. Up  to  the  year  1841  little  had  been  done 
in  this  country  for  the  insane.  Many  of  them 
were  shut  up  in  jails  and  almshouses,  and  often 
cruelly  treated.  A  noble  w^oman.  Miss  Dorothea 
Dix,  had  found  out  something  about  their  sad 
condition,  and  she  asked  my  father  to  help  her 
to  bring  about  a  better  state  of  things.  So  they 
worked  together,  and  other  good  people  worked 
with  them;  and  to-day  in  every  State  in  the 
Union  there  is  an  asylum  for  the  insane,  where 
they  are  cared  for  and  kindly  treated,  and  often 
cured  and  sent  home  happy. 

While  carrying  on  this  work,  my  father  found 
that  there  were  other  sufferers  in  the  village 
almshouses  beside  the  insane;  there  were  many 


36  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

feeble-minded  children,  who  could  not  go  to 
school  like  other  children,  and  who,  alas! 
were  often  not  wanted  at  home.  No  one  had 
ever  thought  of  teaching  these  children.  They 
could  not  learn  the  regular  lessons;  therefore 
they  could  not  learn  any;  that  is  what  people 
thought.  Nowhere  in  all  this  country  had  any- 
thing been  done  to  help  children  of  this  class; 
and  yet  there  were  thousands  and  thousands  of 
them  in  the  land. 

But  my  father  said,  "  A  little  is  better  than 
nothing.  They  can  be  taught  something!  " 
When  he  thought  of  a  thing,  his  next  step  was 
to  do  it,  and  then  show  people  that  it  could  be 
done.  He  took  some  idiotic  and  feeble-minded 
children  into  a  corner  of  the  Perkins  Institution, 
and  there  he  taught  them  patiently,  Httle  by 
little,  the  things  that  they  could  learn.  At 
first  people  laughed  at  him.  "  Do  you  know," 
said  one  friend  of  his  to  another,  "  what  Howe 
is  going  to  do  next?  He  is  going  to  teach  idiots! 
Ha!  ha!  "  and  they  thought  it  was  a  great  joke, 
and  called  my  father  Don  Quixote. 

But  when  they  came  to  see  what  he  had  done; 
saw  the  sad,  vacant  faces  grown  cheerful;   saw 


THE  CADMUS  OF  THE  BLIND  37 

the  weak,  helpless  hands  growing  strong  and 
capable;  saw  the  girls  learning  to  sew,  and  the 
boys  to  work;  they  ceased  to  laugh,  and  many 
of  them  helped  him  with  money  and  in  other 
ways.  In  a  short  time  he  had  founded  the 
School  for  Feeble-minded  Children,  which  has 
ever  since  been  a  pleasant  and  cheerful  place, 
full  of  hope  and  promise. 

These  are  some  of  the  things  my  father  did; 
but  there  were  many  others.  All  through  his 
long  hfe  he  worked  to  overcome  obstacles,  and 
to  help  people  to  help  themselves.  The  slave, 
the  soldier,  the  prisoner,  the  poor,  the  unfor- 
tunate; for  all  these  he  worked,  \vithout  pause 
and  without  rest,  so  long  as  life  remained  to  him. 

After  his  death,  his  friend  Dr.  Edward  Everett 
Hale  wrote  these  words  about  him. 

"  He  found  idiots  chattering,  taunted  and 
ridiculed  by  each  village  fool,  and  he  left  them 
cheerful  and  happy.  He  found  the  insane  shut 
up  in  their  wretched  cells,  miserable,  star\dng, 
cold,  and  dying,  and  he  left  them  happy,  hope- 
ful, and  brave.  He  found  the  blind  sitting  in 
darkness,  and  he  left  them  glad  in  the  sunshine 
of  the  love  of  God." 


CHAPTER  IV 

JULIA  WARD 

While  Sam  Howe  was  still  in  college,  learning 
lessons  and  playing  pranks,  a  little  girl  was  born 
in  New  York,  in  a  house  on  the  beautiful  Bowl- 
ing Green,  near  where  the  emigrant  ships  now 
come  in.  Her  father's  name  was  Samuel  Ward, 
and  she  was  named  Julia,  after  her  lovely  young 
mother.  People  were  very  sorry  for  little  Julia 
Ward,  because  she  had  red  hair,  which  was 
thought  a  great  misfortune  in  those  days. 
Visitors  coming  to  see  her  mother  would  shake 
their  heads  and  say  "  Poor  little  JuHa!  what 
a  pity  she  has  red  hair!  "  and  the  tender  mother, 
whose  own  hair  was  dark,  would  sigh,  and  won- 
der how  such  a  thing  should  happen  in  her 
family.  The  beautiful  hair  was  combed  with  a 
leaden  comb,  as  one  old  lady  said  that  would 
turn  it  dark ;  and  it  was  soaked  in  honey-water, 

as  another  old  lady  said  that  was  really  the  best 

38 


JULIA    WARD    HOWE. 


JULIA  WARD  39 

thing  you  could  do  with  it;  and  the  little  girl 
felt  that  she  might  almost  as  well  be  a  hunch- 
back or  a  cripple  as  that  unfortunate  creature, 
a  red-haired  child. 

Still,  there  were  some  who  saw  Julia's  beauty, 
for  there  is  a  story  of  how  once,  when  she  was 
very  little,  she  heard  her  aunts  talking  about  her 
looks,  and  saying  how  pretty  she  was,  spite  of 
the  red  hair.  Juha  could  not  reach  up  to  the 
mirror,  even  on  tiptoe;  so  she  climbed  on  a 
chair,  and  took  a  good  look  at  herself.  "  Is 
that  all? "  she  cried;  and  scrambled  down 
again  as  fast  as  she  could,  sadly  disappointed. 

When  she  was  six  years  old  her  beautiful 
dark-eyed  mother  died;  and  after  that  Julia 
and  her  brothers  and  sisters  (there  were  six  of 
them  in  all)  were  brought  up  by  their  good  aunt, 
who  came  to  make  her  home  with  them  and  their 
father. 

A  very  good  and  kind  aunt  she  was,  and 
devoted  to  the  motherless  children;  but  some- 
times she  did  funny  things.  Every  day  the 
children  were  sent  out  to  drive  in  a  great  yellow 
chariot  Hned  with  fine  blue  cloth.  Auntie 
Francis  thought  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  have 


40  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

them  dressed  to  match  the  chariot;  so  one  day 
they  appeared,  the  three  httle  girls,  JuHa, Louisa, 
and  Annie,  in  bright  blue  pelisses  (a  pelisse 
was  a  kind  of  long  coat,  much  worn  at  that 
time)  and  yellow  satin  bonnets.  This  costume 
was  becoming  to  Louisa  and  Annie,  who  had 
dark  hair  and  eyes,  but  Julia  thought  it  did  not 
suit  her  so  well.  However,  she  thought  very 
little  about  her  clothes;  she  had  so  many  other 
things  to  think  about!  One  day  one  of  her 
sisters  met  her  coming  home  from  school  with 
one  blue  shoe  and  one  green;  and  often  they 
had  to  wake  her  up  from  her  day-dreams  and 
remind  her  that  this  or  that  must  be  seen  to 
about  her  dress. 

Speaking  of  shoes,  the  Ward  children  must 
have  been  very  uncomfortable  when  they  went 
to  school  in  winter;  Auntie  Francis  believed  in 
"  hardening  "  them,  so  in  the  coldest  weather 
they  went  in  thin  slippers  and  white  cotton 
stockings.  No  rubbers  then,  no  arctics  or 
leggings! 

Once,  when  they  were  all  little,  the  good 
housekeeper  was  taken  ill  and  died  in  the  house. 
The  children  were  very  fond  of  her,  and  Auntie 


JULIA   WARD  41 

Francis  did  not  wish  them  to  be  saddened  by  the 
funeral  arrangements;  so  she  gave  them  a 
strong  dose  of  physic,  which  made  them  all  ill; 
put  them  to  bed,  and  kept  them  there  till  the 
funeral  was  over. 

Julia  Ward  was  very  happy  at  school,  for 
study  was  one  of  the  things  she  loved  best  in 
the  world,  then  and  all  through  her  long  life, 
to  the  very  end.  At  nine  years  old  she  was 
studying  Paley's  "  Moral  Philosophy  "  with 
girls  of  sixteen  and  eighteen.  She  could  not 
have  been  older  than  this  when,  one  day,  she 
heard  a  class  reciting  an  Italian  lesson.  She 
was  dehghted  with  the  sound  of  the  musical 
language,  and  Hstened,  and  listened  again  and 
again.  Then  she  managed  to  get  hold  of  an 
Italian  grammar,  and  studied  it  by  herself, 
saying  nothing  to  any  one;  till  one  day  she 
handed  to  the  astonished  Italian  teacher  a 
letter  correctly  written  in  Itahan,  begging  to  be 
allowed  to  join  the  class.  She  loved  the  study 
of  languages,  always;  she  spoke  French  and 
German  beautifully,  and  wrote  them  easily  and 
correctly.  Later  in  life  she  studied  Spanish 
somewhat;  she  was  never  afraid  to  try  to  speak 


42  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

any  language  that  she  heard.  Once,  when  she 
and  my  father  were  in  Santo  Domingo,  where 
Spanish  is  the  national  language,  my  father 
wrote  home  to  her  sister,  "  Juha  knows  three 
words  of  Spanish,  and  talks  it  all  day  long!  " 

I  shall  have  more  to  say  by  and  by  about 
her  studies. 

Her  father  was  a  grave,  stern  man,  but  de- 
voted to  his  children.  He  loved  Julia  deeply, 
and  she  loved  him  as  much  as  she  feared 
him,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal.  She  always 
sat  on  his  left  at  table,  and  often  he  would  take 
her  hand  in  his  and  hold  it.  He  could  go  on 
with  his  dinner,  because  it  was  his  left  hand 
that  held  hers;  but  it  was  JuHa's  right  hand 
that  was  held,  and  as  she  dared  not  draw  it 
away,  she  often  got  little  dinner. 

She  had  a  habit  of  dropping  off  her  slippers 
while  at  table.  One  day  her  father  felt  the  little 
slipper,  with  no  foot  inside  it.  He  put  his  own 
foot  on  it  and  moved  it  under  his  chair,  then 
said  in  his  deep,  grave  voice,  "  My  daughter, 
will  you  be  so  good  as  to  bring  me  my  seals, 
which  I  have  left  on  the  table  in  my  room?  " 

Poor  Julia!   she  hunted  with  both  feet,  but 


JULIA  WARD  43 

could  not  find  the  slipper;  and  at  last  she  had  to 
go  on  the  errand  in  one  slipper  and  one  white 
stocking-foot.  She  never  would  have  dreamed 
of  asking  for  the  shoe. 

She  was  a  very  good  child,  but  she  could  be 
naughty  sometimes,  as  every  child  can.  She 
loved  to  tease  her  good  old  Grandfather  Ward, 
who  Hved  with  them  at  one  time.  This  dear  old 
gentleman  had  not  always  been  old.  He  was 
a  gallant  young  soldier  in  Revolutionary  times, 
the  son  of  Governor  Ward  of  Rhode  Island,  and 
nephew  of  General  Greene.  He  was  only 
eighteen  when,  already  a  captain,  he  marched 
his  company  to  the  siege  of  Boston,  and  then 
through  the  wlderness  of  Maine  (as  it  then 
was),  through  ice  and  snow,  barefoot,  to  Que- 
bec. Some  of  you  may  have  seen  a  copy  of 
Trumbull's  famous  painting  of  "  The  Attack 
on  Quebec."  Look  in  the  left-hand  corner,  and 
you  will  see  a  group  of  three  men,  one  of  them 
a  young,  active  figure  ^vith  flashing  eyes.  That 
is  Samuel  Ward,  Julia's  grandfather.  He  rose 
to  be  major,  then  lieutenant-colonel;  was  at 
Peekskill,  Valley  Forge,  and  Red  Bank,  and 
wrote  the  official  account  of  the  last-named 


44  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

battle,  which  may  now  be  found  in  Washing- 
ton's correspondence.  He  was  a  good  soldier, 
and  in  course  of  time  he  became  a  good  grand- 
father. Little  Julia  Ward  loved  him  dearly, 
and  yet,  as  I  say,  she  was  sometimes  naughty. 
Once,  when  she  was  a  very  Uttle  child,  she  sat 
down  at  the  piano,  placed  a  music-book  on  the 
rack  before  her,  and  began  to  pound  and 
thump  on  the  keys  with  all  her  might,  making 
the  most  dreadful  noise.  Her  grandfather  was 
sitting  by,  book  in  hand.  He  had  no  ear  for 
music,  but  he  thought  it  did  not  sound  right, 
somehow.  After  enduring  it  patiently  for  some 
time,  he  said  in  his  kind,  courtly  way,  "  Is  it  so 
set  down  in  the  book,  my  dear?  " 

"Yes,  Grandpapa!"  said  naughty  little 
Julia,  and  went  on  banging;  and  the  dear  good 
gentleman  said  nothing  more. 

She  was  naughty  to  her  Uncle  Ben,  too,  one 
day,  and  stamped  her  foot,  and  cried  out: 
"  I  don't  care  for  old  Ben  Cutler!  "  (but  she 
did,  really) ! 

JuHa  began  to  read  poetry  when  she  was  very 
little  indeed;  and  she  was  still  a  child  when 
she  began  to  write  it.    I  have  beside  me  as  I 


JULIA   WARD  45 

write  a  little  brown  blank  book,  in  which  are 
many  poems  and  hymns  written  by  her  in  her 
eleventh,  twelfth  and  thirteenth  years.  One 
of  these  poems  is  in  French,  and  in  the  four 
stanzas  there  is  only  one  mistake. 

When  JuUa  was  nine  years  old,  her  dolls  were 
taken  away  from  her,  that  she  might  realize 
more  the  dignity  of  her  position  as  "  Miss 
Ward,"  the  eldest  daughter  and  sister.  She 
was  always  addressed  as  "  Miss  Ward  "  by 
servants  and  masters;  and  tried  hard  to  be 
dignified,  poor  httle  girl!  One  day  she  found 
her  sisters  playing  some  childish  game  in  the 
nursery.  Perhaps  she  would  have  Hked  to 
play  too,  but  she  felt  that  she  ought  to  lead 
them  to  think  of  more  serious  things,  so  she 
bade  them  lay  aside  their  toys  and  improve 
their  minds  by  writing  poetry.  Louisa  said  she 
could  not,  and  would  not;  but  little  sweet 
Annie  would  try,  to  please  Sister  Julia.  So  she 
sat  down  and  thought  hard  for  some  time,  and 
finally  produced  these  lines. 

"  He  feeds  the  ravens  when  they  call, 
And  stands  them  in  a  pleasant  hall." 


46  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

When  Julia  was  still  a  growing  girl,  her  father 
built  a  fine  new  house,  on  the  corner  of  Bond 
Street  and  Broadway.  It  was  considered  very 
far  up  town,  which  will  amuse  New  York 
children  who  may  happen  to  read  this.  The 
rooms  were  large  and  lofty,  and  Julia  spent 
much  of  her  spare  time  in  walking  up  and  down 
the  long  picture-gallery,  dreaming  of  aU  the 
wonderful  things  she  would  see  and  do  some 
day.  She  was  generally  alone,  for  the  little 
sisters  were  much  younger,  and  paired  off 
naturally  together,  and  her  brothers  were  at 
boarding-school;  but  she  was  not  lonely,  for 
her  mind  was  fuU  of  beautiful  thoughts.  She 
read  Shakespeare  and  Byron,  and  all  the  poetry 
she  could  find,  and  she  wrote  more  and  more 
herself.  Among  other  poems  of  her  early  girl- 
hood was  one  called  "  The  Ill-cut  Mantell; 
A  Romaunt  of  the  time  of  Kynge  Arthur." 
The  story  is  an  old  one,  but  the  telling  of  it 
was  aU  Julia's  own,  and  I  must  quote  a  few 
lines. 


"  I  cannot  well  describe  in  rhyme 
The  female  toilet  of  that  time. 


JULIA  WARD  47 

I  do  not  know  how  trains  were  carried, 

How  single  ladies  dressed,  or  married; 

If  caps  were  proper  at  a  ball, 

Or  even  if  caps  were  worn  at  all; 

If  robes  were  made  of  crape  or  tulle, 

If  skirts  were  narrow,  gored,  or  full. 

Perhaps,  without  consulting  grace, 

The  hair  was  scraped  back  from  the  face, 

While  on  the  head  a  mountain  rose, 

Crowned,  hke  Mont  Blanc,  with,  endless  snows. 

It  may  be  that  the  locks  were  shorn; 

It  may  be  that  the  lofty  puflF, 

The  stomacher,  the  rising  ruff. 

The  bodice,  or  the  veil  were  worn. 

Perhaps  mantillas  were  the  passion, 

Perhaps  ferronnieres  were  in  fashion,  — 

I  cannot,  and  I  -will  not  tell. 

But  this  one  thing  I  wot  full  well, 

That  every  lady  there  was  dressed 

In  what  she  thought  became  her  best." 

The  Wards  spent  the  summer  at  Newport, 
and  that  was  always  a  happy  time.  The  boys 
were  at  home  then,  Sam  and  Henry  and  Marion, 
and  they  all  played,  and  walked,  and  rode 
together.  Julia  had  a  little  thorough-bred 
mare  on  which  she  used  to  scamper  all  about  the 
country.     Sometimes  the  mare,  a  wild  little 


48  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

creature,  would  throw  her  off,  though  she  was 
a  good  rider;  then  Julia  would  pick  herself  up 
and  run  home,  and  creep  in  at  the  back  door, 
for  fear  Auntie  should  see  her  and  forbid  her 
riding  any  more. 

So  Julia  Ward  grew  up,  dreaming  and  study- 
ing, writing  and  playing  and  thinking;  grew 
up  into  a  lovely  young  woman.  And  then, 
while  on  a  visit  to  Boston,  she  heard  the  won- 
derful story  of  Laura  Bridgman,  and  of  the 
man  who  had  brought  her  from  darkness  into 
light.  She  went  with  some  friends  to  visit  the 
Perkins  Institution  for  the  BHnd,  and  there 
met  my  father.  She  has  herself  told  how  she 
first  saw  him,  "  a  noble  rider,  on  a  noble  horse." 
She  felt  at  once  that  he  was  the  most  remarkable 
man  she  had  ever  met;  he  was  no  less  strongly 
attracted  by  her.  Acquaintance  ripened  into 
friendship,  friendship  into  love;  and  in  1843 
Samuel  Gridley  Howe  and  Julia  Ward  were 
married. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   TWO  HAPPY  HOMES 

Now  begins  the  part  of  these  two  noble 
lives  that  I  and  my  sisters  and  brother  re- 
member, the  happy  time  when  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Howe  were  our  dear  father  and  mother.  I 
have  told  fully  about  these  happy  years  in 
another  book,^  but  I  must  say  something  about 
them  here,  for  we  children  were  a  very  important 
part  of  the  two  Kves.  I  suppose  there  never 
were  more  tender  or  devoted  parents  than  these 
two  people,  whose  days  were  so  full  of  work  for 
aU  kinds  of  other  people  and  causes.  I  think 
one  reason  why  they  were  able  to  do  so  much 
was  that  they  never  wasted  any  time.  My  father 
was  up  at  four  or  five  o'clock,  winter  and  sum- 
mer, writing  his  letters  and  reports,  which  were 
eagerly  read  all  over  the  world.  By  six  o'clock 
he  was  ready  for  his  ride,  and  one  of  us  children: 

^  When  I  Was  Your  Age. 
49 


50  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

always  went  with  him.  He  was  a  superb  rider, 
and  he  taught  us  all  how  to  sit  a  horse,  how  to 
hold  the  whip  and  reins,  and  so  forth.  There 
were  many  stories  of  his  skill  in  managing  horses. 
Once,  when  my  sister  JuHa  was  a  baby,  he  and 
my  mother  were  travelling  in  Italy;  there  were  no 
railroads  there  in  those  days,  so  they  drove  in 
an  old-fashioned  travelling-carriage.  One  day 
they  stopped  at  the  door  of  an  inn,  and  my 
father  went  in  for  a  moment  to  make  some  in- 
quiries. No  sooner  was  he  out  of  sight  than  the 
driver  slipped  in  at  the  side  door  to  get  a  glass 
of  wine;  and  the  next  moment  the  horses, 
finding  themselves  free,  ran  away,  with  my 
mother,  the  nurse  and  baby,  in  the  carriage. 

My  father,  hearing  the  sound  of  wheels,  came 
out,  caught  sight  of  the  driver's  guilty  face 
peering  round  the  corner  in  affright,  and  at 
once  saw  what  had  happened.  He  ran  along  the 
road  in  the  direction  in  which  the  horses  were 
headed;  and  presently,  rounding  a  corner  of 
the  mountain  which  the  road  skirted,  he  saw 
a  country  wagon  coming  towards  him,  drawn  by 
a  stout  horse,  with  a  stout  driver  half-asleep  on 
the  seat.     My  father  ran  up,  stopped  the  horse, 


'o'AT^  TEACrER'S  C' 

J.  X73.  -/ 

THE  TWO  HAPPY  HOMES  51 

unhitched  him  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
leaped  on  his  back,  and  was  off  like  a  flash,  be- 
fore the  man  got  his  eyes  fairly  open.  He  gal- 
loped on  at  full  speed  till  he  overtook  the 
lumbering  carriage-horses,  which  were  easily 
stopped.  No  one  was  hurt;  he  turned  the 
horses  back,  and  soon  came  to  where  the 
wagoner  still  sat  on  his  seat  with  his  mouth 
wide  open.  My  father  paid  him  well  for  the 
use  of  the  horse,  and  he  probably  regretted 
that  there  were  no  more  mad  Americans  to 
steal  a  ride  and  pay  for  it. 

Another  time  (this  was  at  home),  the  horses 
ran  away  with  my  father  inside  the  carriage,  — 
a  carryall  with  a  large  plate-glass  window  in 
front.  The  coachman  had  got  down  to  pick  up 
his  whip,  which  he  had  dropped.  Again,  hke 
a  flash,  my  father  did  the  thing  that  had  to  be 
done;  sprang  through  the  glass,  shivering  it  to 
atoms,  caught  up  the  reins,  and  stopped  the 
runaways  before  any  damage  was  done. 

Still  another  time,  we  were  sitting  at  dinner, 
when  word  came  that  the  Perkins  Institution 
was  on  fire.  Between  our  house  and  the  Insti- 
tution was  a  high  hill,  the  last  remaining  bit 


52  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

of  "  Washington  Heights,"  where  General 
Washington  gathered  his  troops  in  the  Rev- 
olutionary days.  The  messenger  had  come 
round  by  way  of  the  street,  wasting  precious 
minutes;  but  my  father  never  wasted  minutes. 
He  ran  up  the  hill,  which  sloped  gently  up  be- 
hind our  house,  but  on  the  further  side  showed 
a  steep  descent  like  the  face  of  a  cliflf.  Down 
this  cliff  he  slid,  reached  the  Institution,  and 
before  any  one  knew  he  had  come,  had  swarmed 
up  the  gutter-spout,  and  was  hacking  away  at 
the  burning  timbers  with  an  axe  that  he  had 
managed  to  pick  up  on  his  way.  The  fire  was 
soon  put  out;  so  were  all  the  fires  he  had  to  do 
with. 

We  lived  at  South  Boston  then,  in  a  very 
old  house,  quaint  and  comfortable.  It  stood 
in  a  beautiful  green  garden  full  of  lilacs  and 
snowballs,  and  lovely  blossoming  trees,  the 
laburnum,  with  its  showers  of  gold,  and  white 
and  pink  hawthorn.  When  my  mother  first 
entered  the  garden,  in  early  summer,  she  ex- 
claimed "Oh!  this  is  green  peace!  "  and  Green 
Peace  the  place  was  called  ever  after. 

My  mother  did  not  get  up  at  four  o'clock,  as 


THE  TWO  HAPPY  HOMES  53 

my  father  did,  but  she  was  as  busy  in  her  way  as 
he  in  his.  When  she  had  finished  her  housekeep- 
ing duties  and  taken  her  morning  walk,  she  went 
straight  to  her  desk,  and  spent  the  morning,  and 
often  a  great  part  of  the  day,  in  study  and  com- 
position. When  we  were  children,  she  seemed 
always  to  be  studying  Latin  and  German: 
later,  when  she  was  fifty  years  old,  she  learned 
Greek,  and  from  that  time  on  always  read  some 
of  it  every  day.  She  helped  my  father,  too,  in 
his  anti-slavery  work,  and  in  editing  a  news- 
paper, the  Commonwealth,  which  he  carried  on 
for  some  time ;  but  most  of  the  time  when  she 
was  not  studying,  she  was  writing  poems  and 
plays  and  essays,  which  have  given  pleasure 
and  help  to  their  readers  ever  since. 

My  first  recollection  of  my  mother  is  stand- 
ing by  the  piano  in  the  great  dining-room 
at  Green  Peace,  in  a  black  velvet  dress,  with 
her  beautiful  neck  and  arms  bare,  singing 
to  us.  She  had  a  wonderful  voice,  and  her 
singing  was  one  of  our  chief  delights.  She 
knew  every  song  that  ever  was  written,  or  so 
we  thought.  English,  Scotch,  and  Irish  songs; 
French,    German,   ItaUan,    and    even    Polish; 


54  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

there  truly  was  no  end  to  them.  She  taught  us 
to  sing  with  her,  too,  and  so  we  learned  a 
great  deal,  besides  having  the  most  delightful 
times.  But  she  made  songs  of  her  own,  also, 
and  these  we  loved  best  of  all. 

We  were  not  allowed  to  interrupt  my  mother's 
study  hours,  unless  there  was  some  good  reason; 
but  there  came  a  time  in  the  afternoon  that  was 
all  our  own.  Then  "  Mamma  "  would  sit  down 
at  the  piano,  and  we  would  all  sing  and  dance 
together.  First  we  sang,  my  mother  leading; 
old  German  student  songs,  plantation  melodies, 
"  Dearest  May  "  and  the  like;  and  those  of  her 
own  songs  that  we  loved  best.  Then,  when  we 
could  sing  no  more,  the  dancing  began,  my 
mother  playing  the  most  delightful  tunes  that 
ever  were.  And  while  we  were  dancing,  perhaps 
the  door  would  open  and  "  Papa  "  come  in  to 
join  the  merrymaking;  he  might  come  playing 
bear,  wrapped  in  his  great  fur  coat,  growl- 
ing terribly.  That  was  wonderful  fun,  for 
he  was  the  good-natured  bear  of  the  fairy 
stories,  and  we  could  climb  all  over  him,  and 
pull  him  about,  and  make  him  dance  wdth 
us;   only  when  he  was  tired,  he  said  he  had 


THE  TWO  HAPPY  HOMES  55 

"  a   bone    in  his   leg,"    and  would   dance   no 
more. 

They  both  read  aloud  to  us  a  great  deal,  these 
dear  parents.  Both  read  very  beautifully;  from 
them  we  learned  to  love  Shakespeare  and  Scott 
and  Dickens;  and  we  never  can  forget  how  my 
father  read  the  Bible,  in  his  deep,  melodious 
voice.  They  made  us  read  aloud,  too,  and  took 
great  pains  to  make  us  finish  our  words,  read 
clearly  and  with  the  right  emphasis.  My 
mother  was  specially  careful  about  our  reading 
poetry,  and  never  let  us  read  it,  as  some  people 
do  to-day,  as  if  it  were  prose.  We  must  always 
make  the  music  of  the  verse  evident. 

We  had  plenty  of  good  books;   I  never  saw 
any  "  trash  "  in  my  father's  house. 

As  I  have  told  you,  they  were  busy  all  day 
long,  from  morning  till  night;  but  they  were 
never  too  busy  to  listen  to  us,  to  help  us,  when 
we  needed  anything.  When  my  mother  took 
her  morning  walk,  she  might  have  hked  to 
think  over  what  she  had  to  write  that  day ;  but 
instead,  she  had  two  or  three  children  "  tag- 
ging "  after  her,  asking  questions,  and  telling 
important  things,  about  how  Sally  Bradford,  the 


56  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

rubber  doll,  had  a  hole  in  her  head,  or  why  the 
cover   of   the   sugar-bowl   was   buried    in   the 
garden.    And  when  my  father  was  pruning  his 
trees  and  gathering  his  pears,  we  must  go  too, 
and  get  in  his  way  (only  we  never  knew  we  were 
in  it!)  and  find  out  all  about  everything  con- 
nected with  pears  or  peaches.    We  must  have 
hampered  them  sadly    sometimes,  but    as    I 
say,  we  never  knew   it;   and  oh,   how  much 
we   learned  in  this  way!     Not  only  a  great 
deal  about  fruits  and  flowers,  but  things  far 
different:    that  it  was  not  honorable  to  take 
fruit  without  leave;  that  we  must  not  be  greedy, 
but   must  share   with    the   rest;    that  it    was 
dehghtf  ul  to  give  pleasure  to  others,  as  by  taking 
baskets  of  fruit  to  the  "  Institution  "  and  dis- 
tributing it  among  our  little  blind  friends,  and 
seeing  them  enjoy  it. 

We  had  school,  of  course,  and  learned  lessons 
out  of  books,  as  other  children  do ;  but  no  other 
children  ever  had  our  father  and  mother  to 
learn  from. 

They  had  parties  for  us,  too.  My  mother 
wrote  plays,  and  she  and  my  father  and  some  of 
their  friends  acted  them  for  us,  till  we  grew  big 


THE  TWO  HAPPY  HOMES  $7 

enough  to  take  part  ourselves;  and  there  was 
Jose,  the  brown  donkey,  for  us  to  ride  on,  and 
the  "  junk  "  or  rocking-boat,  for  us  to  rock  in; 
there  was  really  no  end  to  our  pleasures. 

All  these  things  were  at  Green  Peace,  and 
were  pleasures  of  spring  and  autumn  and 
winter.  In  summer  we  went  to  our  other  home, 
no  less  dear;  Lawton's  Valley,  near  Newport, 
Rhode  Island.  This  was  another  children's 
paradise ;  we  were  always  as  happy  to  get  down 
to  the  Valley  as  we  were  to  get  back  to  Green 
Peace;  we  never  knew  which  we  loved  best. 
There  was  the  brook  to  paddle  in,  and  the  old 
mill,  and  the  Valley  itself,  Uke  a  long  green 
parlor,  shaded  by  great  trees,  and  floored  with 
smooth  turf,  where  we  used  to  have  the  most 
wonderful  picnics  that  ever  were.  There  were 
the  apple-trees,  too,  not  to  be  compared  with 
the  Green  Peace  trees  for  fruit-bearing,  but  far 
better  for  climbing  in;  and  the  meadows  full  of 
blackberries,  and  the  salt  water  to  bathe  in. 

We  had  nurses  to  take  care  of  us,  but  when  we 
were  ill  I  cannot  remember  them  at  all;  I 
only  remember  my  mother  tending  us,  smooth- 
ing the  aching  head  with  her  beautiful  white 


58  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

hands,  singing  to  us  softly,  making  us  forget  the 
pain;  and  my  father,  leaving  his  work  to  come 
and  cheer  us  up,  and  tell  us  the  wonderful 
story  about  Jacky  Nory,  the  story  that  had  no 
end.  And  when  we  had  to  go  to  the  dentist,  — 
it  was  much  more  dreadful  to  go  in  those  days, 
for  there  was  no  "  gas,"  and  when  a  tooth  had 
to  be  pulled,  —  well!  — -  never  mind  about  that; 
anyhow,  when  we  had  to  go,  either  "  Papa  "  or 
''  Mamma  "  always  went  with  us,  and  held  our 
hand,  and  helped  us  to  bear  it  as  well  as  we 
could. 

And  all  this  time,  remember,  the  great  work 
was  going  on,  without  pause  or  rest.  The  bhnd, 
the  deaf,  the  insane,  and  all  the  sufferers  were 
being  helped;  the  beautiful  poems  and  books 
were  being  written;  every  day  and  all  day, 
people  of  all  kinds  and  all  nations  were  com- 
ing to  my  father  and  mother  for  help,  or 
comfort,  or  pleasure;  but  the  happy  home 
was  always  there  for  the  children. 


BATTLE  HYMN  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the 

Lord: 
He  is  trampling  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of 

wrath  are  stored; 
He  hath  loosed  the  fateful  lightning  of  his  terrible  swift 

sword. 

His  truth  is  marching  on! 

I  have  seen  him  in  the  watch-fires  of  a  hundred  circling 

camps; 
They  have  builded  him  an  altar  in  the  evening  dews 

and  damps; 
I  can  read  his  righteous  sentence  by  the  dim  and  flaring 

lamps; 

His  day  is  marching  on! 

I  have  read  a  fiery  gospel  writ  in  burnished  rows   of 

steel: 
"  As  ye  deal  with  my  contemners,  so  with  you  my  grace 

shall  deal;  " 
Let  the  hero  born  of  woman  crush  the  serpent  with  his 
heel,  — 

Since  God  is  marching  on! 
59 


6o  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

He  has  sounded  forth  the  trumpet  that  shall  never  call 

retreat; 
He  is  sifting  out  the  hearts  of  men  before  his  judgment 

seat; 
Oh,  be  swift,  my  soul,  to  answer  him,  be  jubilant,  my 

feet! 

Our  God  is  marching  on ! 

In  the  beauty  of  the  hhes  Christ  was  born  across  the 

sea. 
With  a  glory  in  his  bosom  that  transfigures  you  and 

me; 
As  he  died  to  make  men  holy,  let  us  die  to  make  men 

free, 

While  God  is  marching  on! 


/af^^/"- 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  WAR  TIME 

In  the  year  1861  the  terrible  Civil  War 
broke  out  in  this  country,  and  North  and  South 
were  for  a  time  divided.  My  father  was  past 
the  age  for  active  service,  and  could  not  join 
the  army,  as  he  would  have  liked  to  do;  but 
he  was  able  to  help  a  great  deal,  first  by  going, 
at  Governor  Andrew's  request,  to  examine  into 
the  condition  of  the  Union  soldiers  in  the  field, 
and  later  by  helping  to  found  the  famous  San- 
itary Commission,  (the  fore-runner  of  the  Red 
Cross)  and  taking  part  in  its  labors.  This 
duty  took  him  to  battle-field,  camp,  hospital 
and  prison;  and  wherever  he  went  he  shed  the 
light  of  his  wisdom  and  the  fire  of  his  patriot- 
ism. 

My  mother,  too,  longed  to  help  her  country. 

At  first  she  did  not  know  how  she  could  do  this, 

61 


62  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

except  by  doing  what  all  the  women  and 
children  were  doing  in  those  days,  making 
clothing  and  sending  comforts  to  the  soldiers 
in  camp  and  field.  Soon,  however,  she  found  a 
way  of  her  own. 

In  the  late  autumn  of  this  year,  1861,  she 
went  to  Washington  with  my  father  and  a  party 
of  friends,  among  them  Governor  Andrew,  who 
was  called  "  the  great  War  Governor."  One 
day  they  drove  out  of  the  city  to  see  a  review 
of  the  troops.  It  had  hardly  begun  when  the 
alarm  was  given.  Some  of  the  Union  soldiers 
near  by  had  been  surrounded  and  surprised  by 
the  enemy;  the  review  was  given  up,  and  some 
troops  sent  to  the  rescue  of  their  comrades. 
The  rest  of  the  army  marched  back  to  Wash- 
ington, and  the  carriage  containing  Governor 
and  Mrs.  Andrew,  my  mother,  and  the  Reverend 
James  Freeman  Clarke,  returned  also,  moving 
at  a  foot-pace,  the  soldiers  marching  on  either 
side  and  filling  the  roadway.  My  mother  and 
her  friends  began  to  sing  some  of  the  well- 
known  war-songs,  among  them 

"John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  grave;  " 


IN  WAR  TIME  63 

this  seemed  to  please  the  soldiers,  who  cried 
out  "  Good  for  you!  "  and  took  up  the  song 
themselves. 

Mr.  Clarke  said  to  my  mother,  "  Mrs.  Howe, 
why  do  you  not  write  some  good  words  for 
that  stirring   tune?  " 

"  I  wish  I  might!  "  said  my  mother. 

Very  early  the  next  morning,  when  the 
east  was  still  gray,  my  mother  awoke,  and 
found  to  her  amazement  that  hnes  of  poetry 
seemed  to  be  shaping  themselves  in  her  mind. 

"  Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming 
of  the  Lord  "  —  She  lay  quite  still,  and  the 
words  went  on,  grouping  themselves  into  lines, 
the  lines  flowing  on  into  verses.  By  and  by  the 
whole  poem  was  complete  in  her  mind.  Then 
she  said  to  herself,  "  I  shall  lose  this  if  I  don't 
write  it  down  immediately!  "  She  rose  at  once, 
found  a  sheet  of  paper  and  an  old  stump  of  a 
pen  which  she  had  had  the  night  before,  and 
began  to  write  dovvn  the  lines  almost  without 
looking,  as  she  had  often  done  while  watching  by 
us  children  in  our  sleep. 

"  Having  completed  this,"  she  says,  "  I  lay 
down  again  and  fell  asleep,  but  not  without 


64  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

feeling  that  something  of  importance  had  hap- 
pened to  me." 

Something  of  importance  indeed,  not  to  her 
alone,  but  to  her  whole  country.  The  Battle 
Hymn  of  the  Repubhc  was  printed  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly.  Most  people  were  too  busy 
just  then  to  read  poetry,  but  my  mother  heard 
that  her  verses  were  making  their  way  into  the 
camps  and  being  sung  by  the  soldiers,  and  she 
was  well  content.  Among  those  who  read  them 
was  Chaplain  McCabe,  a  good  and  earnest  man, 
who  was  about  to  devote  his  time  and  strength 
to  the  service  of  his  country.  He  was  so  much 
impressed  by  the  poem  that  he  learned  it  by 
heart.  Soon  after,  he  went  to  the  front  with  his 
regiment,  was  taken  prisoner  at  Winchester, 
while  caring  for  the  wounded,  and  sent  to 
Libby  Prison.  Here  he  was  confined,  with  many 
other  Union  soldiers,  in  a  large  bare  room,  like 
a  loft  in  a  warehouse;  there  was  no  furniture 
in  it;  the  prisoners  sat  on  the  floor  by  day,  and 
slept  on  it  by  night,  without  mattress  or  pillow. 
One  evening,  the  officer  in  charge  of  them  told 
them  that  the  Union  armies  had  just  sustained 
a  terrible  defeat.    This  filled  them  with  sorrow, 


IN  WAR  TIME  65 

and  they  gathered  together  in  little  groups, 
some  sitting  on  the  cold  bare  floor,  some  stand- 
ing by  the  narrow  windows  to  get  a  little  hght, 
and  talked  over  the  sad  news  with  heavy  hearts. 
As  they  sat  thus  in  darkness  and  sorrow,  the 
negro  who  waited  on  them  came  in,  and  bending 
over  one  of  the  groups  seated  on  the  floor, 
whispered  something  in  their  ears.  The  news 
they  had  heard,  he  said,  was  false;  the  Union 
armies  had  triumphed,  had  won  a  great  and 
glorious  victory. 

The  glad  tidings  spread  like  wildfire  through 
the  gloomy  vault;  men  wept  and  laughed,  em- 
bracing one  another,  wild  with  joy  and  hope; 
and  Chaplain  McCabe,  his  heart  lifted  up  in 
thanksgiving,  hfted  up  his  voice  also,  a  noble 
one,  and  began  to  sing  the  poem  he  had  so  lately 
learned. 

"  Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the 

Lord; 
He  is  trampling  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of 

wrath  are  stored; 
He  hath  loosed  the  fateful  lightning  of   his  terrible 

swift  sword; 

His  truth  is  marching  on." 


66  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

Every  soul  in  that  prison  knew  the  tune,  and 
every  voice  joined  in  the  chorus  that  rang  out 
upon  the  night  air. 

"  Glory,  glory  hallelujah! 
Glory,  glory,  hallelujah! 
Glory,  glory  hallelujah! 
His  truth  is  marching  on." 

That  was  a  happy  night  in  Libby  Prison;  for 
the  victory  was  that  of  Gettysburg. 

By  and  by  Chaplain  McCabe  was  released, 
and  came  to  Washington.  Here  he  gave  a 
lecture,  in  which  he  told  about  the  things  he  had 
seen  and  done,  on  the  field  and  in  prison. 
Among  other  stirring  tales,  he  told  of  the  scene 
in  Libby  Prison;  and  once  more,  to  a  vast 
audience  of  loyal  people,  he  sang  the  Battle 
Hymn  of  the  Republic.  The  effect  was  magi- 
cal. People  sprang  to  their  feet,  wept  and 
shouted  and  sang  wdth  all  their  might;  and  when 
the  song  was  ended,  above  all  the  tumult  was 
heard  the  voice  of  Abraham .  Lincoln,  crying 
while  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  "  Sing  it 
again! " 

So  the  Battle  Hymn  sang  itself  into  the  heart 
of  the  nation;  and  to-day,  as  I  need  not  teU 


IN  WAR  TIME  67 

you,  it  is  sung  in  church  and  school  and  home, 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land 
my  mother  loved. 

She  wrote  many  other  poems  about  the  war. 
One  of  them,  "  The  Flag,"  was  always  a  favorite 
of  hers  and  of  mine,  so  I  shall  print  two 
stanzas  from  it  here. 

THE  FLAG 

There's  a  flag  hangs  over  my  threshold,  whose  folds 

are  more  dear  to  me 
Than  the  blood  that  thrills  in  my  bosom  its  earnest 

of  liberty; 
And  dear  are  the  stars  it  harbors  in  its  sunny  field  of 

blue, 
As  the  hope  of  a  further  heaven,  that  lights  all  our 

dim  lives  through. 


■'to'^ 


The  flag  of  our  stately  battles,  not  struggles  of  wTath 

and  greed, 
Its  stripes  were  a  holy  lesson,  its  spangles  a  deathless 

creed; 
Twas  red  with  the  blood  of  freemen,  and  white  with. 

the  fear  of  the  foe; 
And  the  stars  that  fight  in  their  courses  'gainst  tyrants 

its  symbols  know. 


CHAPTER  VII 

AFTERNOON  AND   EVENING 

In  the  year  1867  my  father  had  the  happiness 
of  going  once  more  to  Greece  on  an  errand  of 
mercy.  When  Greece  won  her  freedom,  the 
island  of  Crete  had  been  left  under  Turkish 
rule;  but  now  the  islanders,  a  brave  and  hardy 
race,  had  risen  against  their  tyrants,  and  made 
a  gallant  struggle  to  win  their  freedom  too.  As 
in  the  case  of  Greece  so  many  years  before, 
there  was  great  suffering  among  the  women  and 
children.  My  father  was  now  an  old  man,  but 
he  felt  that  he  could  not  let  them  suffer  while  he 
had  strength  to  help;  he  called  a  meeting  of 
kind  people  in  Boston,  told  them  the  sad  story 
of  the  brave  Cretans,  and  called  on  them  for 
aid.  It  was  generously  given;  and  once  more  he 
sailed  for  Greece,  carrying  food  for  the  hungry 
and  clothing  for  the  naked.  My  mother  went 
with  him,  as  did  my  sister  Julia  and  I;  and  we 

68 


AFTERNOON  AND  EVENING  69 

all  helped  in  giving  out  the  clothes,  many  of 
which  had  been  made  by  Boston  school-girls. 
It  was  a  deUghtful  time  for  all  of  us.  The 
Turks  were  angry,  and  forbade  my  father  to 
go  to  Crete,  setting  a  price  on  his  head, 
but  he  went  all  the  same,  and  came  back  safe. 
Once,  indeed,  he  came  very  near  shipwreck. 
He  was  in  a  wretched  little  steamboat,  the 
machinery  of  which  broke  down,  leaving  the 
vessel  helpless.  They  drifted  about  all  night, 
at  the  mercy  of  the  waves.  With  the  morning 
a  breeze  sprang  up,  but  the  captain  and  crew 
of  the  tug  (for  it  was  nothing  more)  were  only 
the  more  frightened,  and  wept  and  waUed, 
calling  on  the  saints  to  help  them.  My  father, 
however,  tore  down  a  piece  of  the  awning,  and 
with  the  help  of  a  passenger  held  it  up  by  way 
of  a  sail,  and  so  brought  the  vessel  safe  into 
port. 

The  brave  Cretans  did  not  succeed  in  win- 
ning their  freedom  that  year,  though  they  fought 
hard  for  it ;  but  now  they  have  their  own  gov- 
ernment, and  are  prosperous  and  thriving. 

So  long  as  he  Hved,  my  father  never  ceased 
to  work  for  the  good  of  others;    he  has  been 


70  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

called  "  the  Servant  of  Humanity,"  because  he 
gave  his  whole  hfe  for  the  service  of  his  fellow 
men. 

In  the  year  1876  this  great  and  good  life 
ended. 

My  mother  had  still  many  long  years  before 
her,  and  she  continued  to  hll  them  full  of  good 
and  lovely  and  helpful  deeds.  She  did  not  give 
up  her  studies,  but  she  added  to  them  all  kinds 
of  other  work.  We  children  were  now  grown 
up  and  married,  so  she  had  much  more  time  at 
her  disposal.  She  felt  that  the  women  of  our 
country  and  of  all  countries  might  make  their 
lives  fuller  and  freer  and  broader  than  they 
had  been;  so  she  founded  or  helped  to  found 
many  clubs  and  associations  of  women,  some 
for  work  and  some  for  study,  all  based  upon  the 
idea  of  helping  women  to  help  themselves. 
She  felt  that  women  should  have  the  right 
to  vote,  and  worked  ardently  in  this  cause. 
She  wrote  many  essays  and  lectures,  and  went 
about  the  country  delivering  them;  and  wher- 
ever she  went  she  was  gladly  welcomed,  as  the 
author  of  the  famous  Battle  Hymn,  and  as  an 
earnest  lover  of  her  kind.    The  words  of  wisdom 


AFTERNOON  AND  EVENING  71 

and  cheer  that  she  spoke  gave  help  and  comfort 
and  strength  to  very  many  people,  and  her 
name  became  more  and  more  beloved. 

She  felt  that  war  was  one  of  the  most  terrible 
evils,  and  that  women  ought  to  fight  against  it 
with  the  weapons  of  peace;  so  for  this  cause  too 
she  spoke,  often  and  well,  and  for  it  she  wrote 
more  than  one  poem. 

My  mother's  poems  fill  several  volumes, 
and  some  of  them  have  become  household 
words.  Here  is  one  which  I  have  always  spe- 
cially loved. 

A  PARABLE 

"I  sent  a  child  of  mine  to-day; 

I  hope  you  used  him  well." 
"  Now,  Lord,  no  visitor  of  yours 

Has  waited  at  my  bell. 

The  children  of  the  Millionaire 
Run  up  and  down  our  street; 

I  glory  in  their  well-combed  hair, 
Their  dress  and  trim  complete. 

But  yours  would  in  a  chariot  come, 
With  thorough-breds  so  gay; 

And  little  merry  men  and  maids 
To  cheer  him  on  his  way." 


72  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

"  Stood,  then,  no  child  before  your  door?  " 

The  Lord,  persistent,  said, 
"Only  a  ragged  beggar-boy, 

With  rough  and  frowzy  head. 

The  dirt  was  crusted  on  his  skin, 

His  muddy  feet  were  bare; 
The  cook  gave  victuals  from  within ; 

I  cursed  his  coming  there." 

What  sorrow,  silvered  with  a  smile, 

SUdes  o'er  the  face  divine? 
What  tenderest  whisper  thrills  rebuke? 

"The  beggar-boy  was  mine!" 

As  the  long,  golden  afternoon  of  my  mother's 
life  deepened  toward  sunset,  with  every  year 
she  grew  dearer  and  wiser  and  more  beautiful. 
You  have  all  seen  pictures  of  her,  taken  in 
recent  years,  with  the  quaint,  pretty  cap  crown- 
ing her  silver  hair.  And  with  every  year  more 
and  more  people  came  to  her,  from  all  parts  of 
the  country,  and  from  foreign  countries,  just 
for  the  pleasure  of  looking  in  her  face  and 
hearing  her  voice.  They  wrote  to  her,  too,  from 
all  over  the  world.  Many  merely  asked  for  her 
autograph;    but  there  were  others  who  asked 


AFTERNOON  AND  EVENING  73 

and  expected  strange  things.  She  always  tried 
to  answer  every  letter,  to  send  her  autograph  to 
every  man,  woman  and  child  who  asked  for  it; 
but  as  she  grew  older  and  less  strong,  she  could 
not  keep  up  with  the  flood  of  requests  that 
poured  in  upon  her.  As  it  was,  I  suppose  she 
wrote  more  letters  in  a  year  than  many  people 
do  their  whole  lives  long. 

She  never  seemed  to  be  in  haste;  the  habit  of 
work  was  so  strong  in  her  that  she  could  work 
rapidly  and  quietly.  She  knew  what  to  say 
and  how  to  say  it;  and  so  her  words  were  never 
wasted,  and  there  were  never  too  many  of 
them. 

She  kept  up  her  studies,  reading  Greek  every 
morning;  holding  fast  to  the  ancient  Avisdom, 
and  yet  keeping  abreast  of  all  the  new  thought, 
and  welcoming  new  light  wherever  it  shone. 
She  loved  to  \'isit  schools  and  talk  to  the  chil- 
dren; some  children  who  read  these  words  may 
have  seen  and  heard  her,  and  they  will  never 
forget  it,  I  am  sure.  Hundreds  of  children 
wrote  to  her,  and  she  answered  their  letters 
whenever  it  was  possible  for  her  to  do  so.  On 
her  ninetieth  birthday  she   received  a  letter 


74  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

from  an  old  gentleman  in  New  York,  reminding 
her  how,  nearly  seventy  years  before,  she  had 
picked  him  up,  a  little  orphan  boy,  five  years 
old,  and  had  found  a  home  for  him  in  the 
Orphan  Asylum.  She  was  a  young  girl  then; 
she  had  done  the  kind  deed  and  forgotten  it; 
but  he  had  never  forgotten. 

Some  of  her  best  poems  were  written  dur- 
ing the  last  ten  years  of  her  life;  several  of 
them  when  she  was  over  ninety  years  old; 
and  she  did  not  cease  writing  till  the  very 
end. 

In  her  later  years  a  pleasant  and  graceful 
custom  grew  up  in  Boston,  the  city  she  loved 
so  well,  and  spread  to  other  cities.  When  she 
entered  a  theatre  or  hall,  the  audience  would 
rise  unbidden  to  their  feet,  and  remain  stand- 
ing till  she  had  taken  her  seat.  This  never 
failed  to  surprise  her,  for  she  was  as  modest 
as  she  was  beloved. 

She  had  grandchildren  and  great-grand- 
children, and  was  never  happier  than  when  she 
could  gather  them  round  her.  Never  was 
such  a  wonderful  and  delightful  grandmother 
seen;  or  so  they  thought.    She  was  as  ready  to 


AFTERNOON  AND  EVENING  75 

play  with  them  as  to  talk  of  high  and  grave 
matters  with  the  wise  and  good  men  and  women 
who  came  from  afar  to  see  her;  and  she  loved 
to  sit  down  at  the  piano  and  play  and  sing  for 
them  the  nursery  rhymes  which  she  had  set  to 
music.  It  was  for  her  grandchildren  that  she 
made  up  the  wonderful  story  of  Fhbbertigibbet, 
the  naughty  imp  who  came  down  the  chimney 
and  set  the  whole  village  by  the  ears.  It  was 
a  musical  story,  and  she  always  told  it  seated 
at  the  piano.  Music  and  words  were  all  her 
own,  and  when  she  played  the  jig,  every-one 
wanted  to  dance,  just  like  the  people  in  the 
story.  She  was  as  fuU  of  fun  as  she  was  of  wis- 
dom and  goodness,  and  there  was  no  other  fun 
like  hers. 

So  the  long  golden  afternoon  passed,  and 
evening  came.  She  died  on  the  eleventh  day  of 
October,  1910. 

The  Hves  of  husband  and  wife  together  had 
covered  more  than  a  century. 

You  have  seen,  when  the  sun  has  set  in  a 
clear  sky,  how  the  hght  Hngers,  first  in  the 
west,  then  broadening  and  brightening  over 
hill  and  dale,  till  all  the  world  is  bathed  in 


76  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES 

golden  glory?  So  the  light  of  these  two  Hves, 
and  of  other  good  and  great  lives,  may  shine 
for  you  and  for  me,  brightening  the  path  before 
us  and  helping  us  on  our  way. 


THE    END. 


H6  K5 


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